For some reason I always end up on the rollaway. Whether I’m a guest or paying my full load, I end up on the rollaway. Last night was reasonable — Jenny was paying and Lani had been driving a 16 foot Penske truck. And I always insist on the rollaway. In fact, I tend to sleep there just as well as any place else. But one time I went to a conference, talked a third person into sharing our room and brought an air mattress and slept on the floor. I think next time I share a room with someone and I’m paying I’m taking the fucking bed.
Except that I don’t mind the rollaway.
We had an interesting trip yesterday. Only 6 hours on the road, and Jenny did all the driving since she didn’t trust me after almost getting us creamed at the airport the day before (we had to drop off Lani’s car). Mistakes were made.
So we decided to eat at Bob Evans rather than Steak N Shake. My hair was gorgeous: After we took off, we drove an hour and I said “I need to stop. Now.” We found a McDonalds with a bathroom, Jenny went to get gas (I already had some) and I spent an not-so entertaining time on the toilet. We got drinks and left. An hour later Jenny said “I need to stop. Now.” We found a nearby Cracker Barrel (the restaurant, not a wooden tub) and Jenny made three trips to the bathroom, emerging every now and then and disappearing once more. I found nothing to buy, believe it or not. Well, I found things to buy, but I didn’t. Finally we were on the road again. As I said, mistakes were made.
We got back, Jenny bought Lani some wine that tasted like old socks, I went swimming, and then I put on my night gear, much to the amusement of my heartless sisters.
In the meantime, we’re ready at an ungodly hour. Who would have thought it.
And for Lani’s Try-it Friday, try driving to NJ in a big honkin’ truck (no, the truck isn’t really honking, you know what I mean).